


Quests Old and New

by octopus_fool



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Challenge: 13 Days for 13 Dwarves, Depression, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Moria | Khazad-dûm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-21
Updated: 2014-11-21
Packaged: 2018-02-26 11:10:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2649884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/octopus_fool/pseuds/octopus_fool
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dwalin does not take well to the news Balin tells him over his favourite cookies.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Quests Old and New

**Author's Note:**

> Tagged as gen, but some things could be read as shippy as well.

Dwalin saw the smile Balin gave him as he reached for another cookie. Balin’s smile was sweeter than usual and there was something calculating in the way he watched Dwalin. For that matter, Balin had also baked Dwalin’s favourite cookies, which Balin didn’t particularly like.

Dwalin’s hand froze on the cookie. “You want me to help you with something, don’t you?”

Balin chuckled. “Oh dear brother, you surprise me. If you continue this way, perhaps you will be able to outthink me by the time you celebrate your three hundredth birthday.”

Dwalin grinned. “You only say that because you know as well as I do that neither of those things will ever take place. Now what did you want to ask me?”

Balin sobered. “You know I have been thinking about Khazad-Dûm for a long time now. If we retake it now, we won’t have to fight as many goblins and orcs as we would have to in a few more years.”

“You know what Dáin says about that. There is worse evil there than just goblins and orcs.”

“Nobody knows what Dáin really saw. The battle had been raging for hours and he had just lost his father and the king. Grief and exhaustion can do strange things to a person’s mind; you know that as well as I do. Torches and shadows can easily turn into more than they really are and the long years can cement the memories into a solid shape.”

“I trust Dáin.”

“So do I,” Balin replied. “I’m just not sure his eyes really saw what he thinks he did at Azanulbizar.”

“We’ve been through this before,” Dwalin said through clenched teeth. “Even if Durin’s bane no longer lives or perhaps never existed, there are still more than enough reasons not to go. You do not know how many goblins and orcs dwell in the tunnels. Do you really want to use your share of treasure to fund an expedition to Khazad-Dûm when you could leave it to Mírdis and her little one?”

“Mírdis earns enough with her trade to make a fortune of her own,” Balin replied. “I do not intend to hoard my gold for its own sake. I do not think I need to explain to you why. I have talked to Mírdis and she agrees on this. The gold is more than I, she and her son could ever spend on our own in our lifetimes, so why should I not use it to do good?”

“’ _Good_ ’,” Dwalin snorted. “Do you ever consider how many good dwarves you would lead to their deaths if you ever went through with this pebble-brained scheme of yours? There are goblins or worse in those mines and they will not leave without a fight. Even if you are successful, dwarves will die. Dáin will never give you permission to go through with this.”

There was a moment of silence.

“He did.”

Dwalin stared at Balin. In his hand, his heavy pottery tankard cracked, spilling his ale over the table. The joints in his jaw began aching from biting down so hard.

“ _What?!_ ”

“I laid out my plans to Dáin and asked him if he would give me his blessing and permission to take a group of dwarves with me to Khazad-Dûm. He allowed me to take up to two hundred dwarves with me if any were willing.”

Dwalin stood abruptly, his chair falling backwards. He strode to the door, flung it open, changed his mind and slammed it shut again. He stood facing the door, his breath heaving as though he had run up the mountain twice in heavy armour.

“Dwalin.”

For a moment, Dwalin said nothing. “What do you want of me?” He finally ground out.

“I was hoping you would join me,” Balin said evenly.

Dwalin slammed his fist into the heavy stone door and it shuddered on its hinges.

“I thought you were supposed to be the one with brains! You know how this is going to go! You will give grand speeches about honour and reclaiming a homeland and in the end, you and too many innocent lads will be lying in cold graves deep in a mountain!” Dwalin realized his voice could probably be heard several houses away despite the thick walls of Erebor, but he didn’t care.

“I am not Thorin,” Balin said calmly. “This is an entirely different quest and I will not die. There is no dragon. I have a well thought-out plan and if I realise it cannot be done, I will turn back.”

“It is _exactly_ the same! You have no idea what is waiting under those mountains and your plan will burn to dust when it comes to it! How do you know you will even be able to turn back? We have a home here, an even better one than in the Blue Mountains, and even that should have been enough!”

“It is no longer home,” Balin said quietly. “Not since Marnís... The rooms are too quiet, only the memories sound ever louder. And I know Erebor hasn’t really been a home for you for even longer. Maybe going to Khazad-Dûm will change things.”

Dwalin turned around and started pacing. “How should it? And will you leave Mírdis and Malin behind?”

“Don’t be ridiculous!” Balin protested. “I’m not taking them along on such a quest while Malin is so young. I hope Mírdis and Gemur will decide to follow once Malin is old enough for such a journey. When I talked to Mírdis about it, she seemed enthusiastic about the idea. She was a bit disappointed she won’t be able to join the quest because Malin is still too young to stay here with his father or come along.”

“Of course she did! She is young and still full of grand ideas! You are the one who should know better! You should not be encouraging these ideas and never should have! After all, you were at Azanulbizar! You fought in the Battle of the Five Armies! You know how all these grand quests end! I don’t understand how you can still... can still...” Dwalin hit the wall in frustration. “Do you have a death wish to go on this quest?!”

“Are you joining me then?” Balin asked quietly.

Dwalin turned around and stared at him. Balin met his eyes and for a few moments, neither said anything.

Finally, Dwalin turned away.

“No,” he whispered. “I cannot leave him.”

Balin sighed softly. “He no longer needs you, Dwalin. Come with me, we will need you on the journey. A few of the old company are coming along too.”

Dwalin spun around. “Who?”

Balin took a sip of his ale. “Óin has agreed to come along as our healer. Glóin is still undecided. I haven’t asked Bifur and Bofur yet, but Bombur is hardly in shape to travel. Dori obviously won’t be able to come either, the way his arthritis has been acting up lately and Nori wants to stay to make sure Dori is alright. I’m sure he also has his jobs to do for Dáin that he can’t talk about. But Ori decided to come on the quest as well.”

Dwalin narrowed his eyes. “You... you know _exactly_ what you are doing, don’t you?”

Balin blinked at him innocently. “I should hope so. I would hardly be fit to lead this quest if I didn’t know what difficulties to expect on the journey and how to adjust to them. And Ori is a very capable scribe who will...”

“What do his brothers say about this?” Dwalin interrupted him.

“Ori is hardly as inexperienced as he was last time. They know he is old enough to make these decisions on their own and that he wouldn’t take kindly to _anyone_ interfering. I’m sure they wouldn’t mind if somebody kept a close eye on him to make absolutely sure no harm comes to him and protected him if need be, though.”

“And you had better make sure he makes it through your fucking quest without a scratch, or I’ll skin you alive,” Dwalin growled.

“Or you could reconsider. You don’t need to make your decision right away...”

“No. I swore my oath.”

“Oaths of fealty tend to be for life, not beyond death.” Balin said mildly.

“Except that I failed to protect him,” Dwalin replied, lowering his head. “I can’t see my oath as fulfilled.”

Balin tapped his head to Dwalin’s, more gently than usual. “Give it some thought. You shouldn’t waste your life this way.”

Dwalin closed his eyes and didn’t respond. When he opened them again, Balin had left, the door swinging shut behind him.


End file.
